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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490432">Sex for Convenience</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character study - Ushijima Wakatoshi, Gay Sex, Gen, Maybe slight Ushishira if you squint, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, but I don't take it as a ship in this fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:35:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,516</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ushijima Wakatoshi has needs.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sex for Convenience</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello. This is a character study of Ushijima Wakatoshi in his 2nd year of high school at Shiratorizawa Academy, before he was assigned captain. Basically I thought "Does he get horny?" And went with it. Do note that this was written a year ago and doesn't tie into chapter 395 (or 394) in any way. </p>
<p>My depiction is my own and you are free to agree or disagree with it.</p>
<p>Enjoy. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One. Tactile.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Ushijima doesn’t remember names well. Neither does he remember faces. The exceptions are people he always comes in contact with; his teammates; Oohira, Soekawa, Semi, Yamagata, Tendou, the coaches; Washiou and Saitou, the teachers-in-charge. The pretty first-year setter who made a statement to aim to get into the selection this year. He remembers his gaze. Steel. Determined.</p>
<p>He remembers looks and expressions and bright colours. He remembers voices.</p>
<p>And now, as his hips thrust into wet warmth, pleasure coursing through his veins, he remembers the moans that fall out of his latest fling. Her hair falls over his face and he angles his hips, grunting softly as he pushes through, and slams right in, getting into an easy, fast rhythm.</p>
<p>He catches a whiff of something fruity that tingles his senses. Her shampoo, he thinks.</p>
<p>Her voice goes high-pitched. Her arms, wound around his shoulders, tightens. Her walls squeezes around him. Ushijima lets out a soft breath. It mingles with her own, but she collapses into his arms, head buried into his shoulder.</p>
<p>Close.</p>
<p>His hand slides down sweat-slicked skin at her waist. He presses a thumb gently at her clit, rubbing in soft circles, in contrast to his rough pounding.</p>
<p>The moans turn higher, breaths more shallow. He listens to her lose herself with him inside, momentarily fascinated by them.</p>
<p>“Ushijima-san, Ushijima-saann--” there’s a sob in her voice. His concern, light on his mind, dashes with her next words. “Please, I’m gonna-”</p>
<p>He interrupts her and slows down, dragging over her good spots. Her whining gives way to mewling. Spams rake through her core to her hips and over her legs. Ushijima silently complies, thumb stroking along with his thrusts.</p>
<p>She squeezes around him and comes with a soft moan.</p>
<p>He doesn’t remember her face, or her smile, or the way her expression falters in the next few days.</p>
<p>“Wakatoshi-kun!” The playful lilt to Tendou’s voice has him turning around in attention. “How was your weekend?”</p>
<p>He thinks about the fruity shampoo scent. The way she clings onto him.</p>
<p>The way she shakes and falls apart in his hands. After that it was nothing else.</p>
<p>“It was good. What about yours?”</p>
<p>Tendou’s gaze slides over his face, taking a moment to stare. “Hmm! Started a new anime today. It isn’t good, but I got invested after the first season, so I can’t just back out!”</p>
<p>Ushijima hums in reply. It seems enough for him.</p>
<p>“Hey. There’s a girl staring at you. Kinda creepy. Like a banshee or something.” Tendou looks over Ushijima’s shoulder. Whatever happened next has him turning his gaze back on him, as though his stare diffused the situation.</p>
<p>“Oh! That reminds me. You’re aiming to become captain, huh? You’ve got my vote!”</p>
<p>It’s been a week since then.</p>
<p>“Don’t mind,” he answers. Then he raises a brow. “I don’t think choosing a captain is a democracy. They are chosen by the coaches.”</p>
<p>The conversation continues. He doesn’t think much about it. He doesn’t linger on it either.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Two. Needs.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>“No. I will not do this to you. You will get hurt.”</p>
<p>“No. You are nowhere near your sexual experiences. I cannot be your first.”</p>
<p>“I will not be your first. Give your virginity to someone else.”</p>
<p>“I am not small in size. It will hurt you.”</p>
<p>“I will not be responsible for your pain.”</p>
<p>“I appreciate the flattery, but I will not use your feelings for sex. I apologize.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Ushijima Wakatoshi wakes up with another stranger in his arms.</p>
<p>It’s still dark out. Moonlight trickles in through the gaps between the curtains and windows, casting a soft glow into the room. He’s still.</p>
<p>He slowly and gently pulls away, and watches for his expression in case he accidentally awakens him.</p>
<p>He doesn’t.</p>
<p>Ushijima thinks of before they started. It’s an unassuming boy, a year his junior. He’s nervous and babbles a lot. Ushijima listens. But he gets to the point right away after school. Hands in his shirt, lips swollen with rough kisses. Domineering. Demanding.</p>
<p>His moans are music to his ears and Ushijima eats them all right up.</p>
<p>He tells him how he thinks about the future ace, how he opens himself up, how he prepared himself.</p>
<p>He’s flattered. He hums in reply.</p>
<p>Then his tongue dives in and his fling moans and pushes back against his head.</p>
<p>Ushijima-san. Ushijima-san.</p>
<p>His voice breaks and his hands are on the headboard of the bed. He doesn’t stop.</p>
<p>Ushijima didn’t need to fuck him. He gives him a show for it, strong thighs straining as he bounces in his lap.</p>
<p>He tells him he’s in track and field. Ushijima listens. He thinks this isn’t a quick one-night stand with the way the boy is so eager to please that he doesn’t have to ask him if what he’s doing to him is comfortable.</p>
<p>The echoes of his fling’s moans bounce off of his mind. Ushijima enjoyed himself. He’s sure he did too.</p>
<p>Briefly he wonders if he should stop altogether. It’s so easy to just ask. Easy for them to go with it. Easy to get off.</p>
<p>He dresses quickly. He’s quiet as he gathers his things. Ushijima considers it, stopping altogether.</p>
<p>Then he’ll put all his focus on the team and ignore the itch for pleasure. If he ever can.</p>
<p>Needs are needs, after all. He is just meeting his needs and others in a similar fashion.</p>
<p>With a last glance to the boy sleeping soundly, Ushijima walks out of the door, not looking back.</p>
<p>He will remember him.</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Three. Steel.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>He can’t stop.</p>
<p>He considers the options. The liabilities.</p>
<p>He knows the way his team looks at him. He’s not lost on the admiration, the fear, the determination, the envy.</p>
<p>Ushijima isn’t lost in the look of longing, awe, and hints of lust either.</p>
<p>And it’s coming from his teammate.</p>
<p>He shields himself from him in a wall of concentration in volleyball. Gazes sear and burn through his skin, partner by partner, in bed and before it, but his cuts right through him like paper.</p>
<p>If gazes could strip him bare, Shirabu is more than capable of it.</p>
<p>His skin tingles, but he pushes it aside as he slams the ball down over the net. Spiking is like breathing and Ushijima soars.</p>
<p>Score.</p>
<p>There is too much at stake. He cannot ask him. This would be an exception of fulfilling his own needs.</p>
<p>But his mind drifts and he imagines soft skin in his hands. Lithe body wrapped around him. The screams of his name. How greedy he would be to draw out all sorts of noises from him. How selfish he would be to drink it all in and make him fall apart.</p>
<p>And how, despite the earned respect for his brash, unmoving presence, he wants his cool expressions to break under his touch.</p>
<p>As soon as practice ends, Ushijima is the first to go.</p>
<p>He doesn’t deny the tingles that continue afterward, following in his wake with his gaze piercing through him.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Ushijima thinks he is good at hiding his inhibitions.</p>
<p>He doesn’t linger for long, his gaze sweeping over his team as Soekawa takes over. Soekawa is good at talking. He is precise, he is straight to the point, he is serious. He is a good vice-captain.</p>
<p>He looks over at Ushijima. “Anything else you want to add on?”</p>
<p>Ushijima considers it. “Work on your serves. Half of you aren’t up to par and the next practice match is next week.”</p>
<p>The chorus of affirmations is enough for him. Their attention is on him. Gazes steel and determined and with pride and conviction.</p>
<p>And Shirabu’s bore into his.</p>
<p>He dares to meet his gaze.</p>
<p>The movement of his lips in a silent “Yes sir” has Ushijima lingering. His lips remind him of a cupid’s bow.</p>
<p>“Go home and rest. I do not want to see anyone else staying back for free practice.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>He stays back instead.</p>
<p>It’s easy to lose himself in the rhythm. Throw the ball up. Go into a running start. Jump. Serve.</p>
<p>He’s aware the echo of the ball slamming against the wall will reverberate across the court.</p>
<p>The lights inside will alert anyone passing by that someone is still practising.</p>
<p>For a moment, he thinks he’s a hypocrite for commanding his team to go home and rest while he works himself down to the bone.</p>
<p>He’s drenched. Breaths laboured. He feels light-headed.</p>
<p>“Ushijima-san.”</p>
<p>It’s clear. It cuts through the haze he so willingly loses himself in.</p>
<p>He stands up straight and catches his breath. One. Two.</p>
<p>In three, Shirabu is walking in, his shadows disrupting the light in the halls.</p>
<p>His gaze is unmoving. Studying. Ushijima paces himself as he picks up the volleyballs left on the floor.</p>
<p>Shirabu follows suit.</p>
<p>It’s companionable silence. But companionable isn’t the right word. Companionable is Oohira. Tendou. Sometimes Semi and Yamagata. It feels worlds away when he is on top and his juniors are below in terms of his prowess, but deep down they are still students, studying in the same academy.</p>
<p>“Ushijima-san,” he starts. Ushijima looks over at him. In Shirabu’s hands are the balls that he drops into the cart.</p>
<p>Thud. Thud. Thud.</p>
<p>“You should heed your own command.”</p>
<p>He hums in reply. Waves of fatigue threaten to steal him away.</p>
<p>“What I do is none of your concern.” It comes out harsher than expected.</p>
<p>He doesn’t miss the crinkle around his eyes. He’s taken aback. Then, his gaze narrows. “Too fucking bad I am, so it’s gonna take a lot more than your command to stop me.”</p>
<p>The swear word falls off his pretty lips. It enunciates nicely around his voice. The tone of righteous anger is like a melody.</p>
<p>Ushijima clenches his fist, as though he can stop the onslaught of sudden wants. Physically he can stop himself from approaching him. The question is if he can escape the clutches of his own desires quicker than he can avoid something drastic altogether.</p>
<p>He doesn’t notice he’s been staring down at Shirabu the whole time. He stares back, akin to a glare, as though daring him to prove him wrong.</p>
<p>That gaze is ever present since the first day of his arrival. The only student who got into the team with academics alone. While Ushijima’s determination is solid and steady, Shirabu’s is fire, ignited and aflame, ready to strike.</p>
<p>He doesn’t give him an answer worth satisfying. Ushijima grabs the cart and wheels it towards the store room. He can hear Shirabu follow him.</p>
<p>“Thank you for gathering the balls. Now go home,” he says, this time with a tinge of tiredness.</p>
<p>How long has he been doing jump serves since practice ended? An hour or two, he thinks. Sometimes Ushijima can keep going until the edges of his vision blacks in and out of consciousness.</p>
<p>It’s almost a curse to be in a zone so easily.</p>
<p>“Don’t bother. You’re tired and you overexerted yourself.” Ushijima can hear the sudden stop, as though Shirabu was going to add on something else but halted at the last second. He’s at his side before he knows it.</p>
<p>The storage room is spacious and it’s clean and the light above makes Shirabu’s face glow, though his features are marred with a frown. “I’m walking you to the dorms.”</p>
<p>They stare once again. Shirabu opens his mouth. Steely gaze. Imposing. Stubborn.</p>
<p>“I’m not backing dow--”</p>
<p>He raises a hand. Shirabu pauses. His expression says otherwise.</p>
<p>“I understand.” he keeps his voice steady. “And I apologize.”</p>
<p>Shirabu stares. Ushijima thinks his look softens around the edges. Silence stretches between them.</p>
<p>“Apology accepted. Let’s go before it-- Ushijima-san?”</p>
<p>The air grows thick, almost suffocating. Shirabu looks up at a looming Ushijima, whose eyes are half-lidded, gaze molten. Something deep swirls just beneath the surface of those dark eyes, and while Shirabu knows, he refuses to admit it.</p>
<p>He can’t be directing this towards him.</p>
<p>He’s a few steps back but it feels as though he could cage him in easily. For the briefest moment he imagines what it’s like to drown in his gaze, engulfed in his scent. Touches at places he hasn’t dreamed of touching himself before.</p>
<p>The thought almost thrills him. His heart beats in his throat as he watches Ushijima step in. Without thinking, Shirabu takes a step back.</p>
<p>He’s close to him. The ball cart creaks under his weight. Ushijima stares down. He watches the light cast a soft glow on the face of his new setter. His lips part, shock and embarrassment and many more others pass those impressionable eyes.</p>
<p>And slight fear.</p>
<p>“Ushijima--” he hears him start, voice clear, though it wavers lightly at the end. He can see the flush go over his cheeks in light reds and pinks. His hands press against the ball cart.</p>
<p>He thinks, for a moment, that he can picture him in many more compromising positions.</p>
<p>For the first time, something else nags at him. Whispers louder than his own urges.</p>
<p>Do not.</p>
<p>He is your setter.</p>
<p>He is not a stranger.</p>
<p>He is concerned for you.</p>
<p>Do not use his feelings.</p>
<p>Ushijima reaches over his head. Shirabu almost flinches. He grabs the last ball tucked into the shelf behind him, and lets it fall into the cart. He pulls away, the spell loosening and dissipating, all at once.</p>
<p>“Sorry. I was too close.”</p>
<p>The words come out like gravel. He thinks it’s guilt.</p>
<p>The flush in his cheeks subsides by a margin. Shirabu shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Ushijima-san.”</p>
<p>If silence has weight, it’s pulling him down to the ground.</p>
<p>The two boys walk to the dorms, with Shirabu’s gaze careful on him.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for being rude earlier,” he breaks the silence first. The night air is cooling, a respite from the heat of his own free practice. Ushijima dares a glance at him. Shirabu looks torn. His brows are bunched together. His lips pressed into a frown. His cheeks dust with pink.</p>
<p>He’s pretty.</p>
<p>Ushijima shakes his head.</p>
<p>“I think I deserved it, for not heeding my own command,” he answers simply, putting air-quotes where he had borrowed Shirabu’s words.</p>
<p>He hears a soft huff of laughter that morphs into a cough.</p>
<p>“I-- mm. Okay.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>Silence, stifling at first, smooths out into something more aligned to companionable.</p>
<p>It’s nice.</p>
<p>They bid each other good night. Shirabu lingers. His gaze bores into Ushijima as he turns to his door. Waiting for an answer to today.</p>
<p>“I’ll leave with the team after practice,” then, he pauses in thought. “You can do the honours of closing up.”</p>
<p>His expression changes a little. Relief. Renewed respect. Awe. He barely puts his expression together to hold something akin to seriousness - but they overpower his control anyway.</p>
<p>“Yes, Ushijima-san.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Good night.”</p>
<p>“Good night.”</p>
<p>As Ushijima lets himself in, with a bow in greeting to Reon, he takes only a glance at his raised brow before he moves to change out of his attire.</p>
<p>Maybe, Ushijima thinks, stopping this habit is good.</p>
<p>It’s better this way.</p>
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